


Midnight Oleander

by Sheepie



Series: Eggsy and his Two Harts [2]
Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Babies, Classic Bond Villain, Damsel in Distress Mark, Domestic Fluff, Double Penetration, Incest, M/M, Missions, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Smut, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: Eggsy, Harry, and Mark are living in domestic bliss. They’ve somehow found a way to defy the odds and live happily ever after—at least, until a villain from Harry’s past mistakes Mark for him. Rescuing Mark is the easy part, it’s the aftermath that’s the hard part. Harry and Eggsy are going to have to save the world again, and this time Mark’s going to help.





	1. Wrong Jam

**Author's Note:**

> I originally hadn't planned on writing the sequel so soon, but I was inspired, so here we are. The return of Mark, Harry, and Eggsy! I love writing these three so much, so I hope you enjoy this. This'll be a fun fic.
> 
> Self-betaed.

            “That isn’t the right one,” Eggsy said—for the third time. Harry continued to ignore him—stubbornly, because Eggsy knew he heard him—and read over the jam jar. They stood in the middle of the shopping aisle of their local Marks and Spencer, their buggy filled with groceries, and for the last ten minutes Harry had been perusing the jams, determined to get Cottage Delight.

            “I think I know which one he likes,” Harry said and placed the jar in the cart. “He likes this brand—he has his entire life.”

            Eggsy rolled his eyes skyward and prayed for patience. “No, he likes Daylesford now. He’s on that organic kick, remember?”

            Harry scoffed and started to push the buggy down the aisle. “Rubbish. Cottage Delight is just fine. Now come on, we still need to get the chicken for tonight.”

            “He’s going to be mad you got the wrong one,” Eggsy said and followed Harry out of the aisle. They made their way to the meat counter.

            “He won’t be mad,” Harry said and parked their buggy. “Which ones look good to you?”

            Eggsy observed the chicken breasts. “He will,” Eggsy argued. He pointed to three pieces that didn’t look too veiny or fatty. “Those look good.”

            “It’s jam, does it matter?” Harry said. To the butcher, he said, “We’ll take those three, please.”

            The steel haired butcher smiled, her gaze crinkling. While she weighed the breasts, Eggsy rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into his back pockets, and said, “I told you, he’s into this organic shite now. Says it’s healthier.”

            The butcher handed them the brown paper wrapped parcel of chicken. “Here you go loves, anything else?”

            “No, thank you,” Harry said, accepting the chicken.

            “You two are adorable,” She said, and Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t often you see a father and son grocery shopping still.”

            “Ma’am, the only time I call him daddy is in bed,” Eggsy said, delighting in her shocked expression. “Come on babe.”

            Harry rolled his eyes, but Eggsy didn’t miss his smile. “Yes, _dear_.”

            They left, heading to the front register. It wasn’t until after they checked out and were halfway home, that Harry said, “You didn’t need to phrase it that way.”

            “Well, I guess I don’t really call you daddy,” Eggsy said.

            “You’re incorrigible,” Harry said.

            “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

            There were still some mornings Eggsy couldn’t believe his life. It all felt like a fairytale and one day he’d wake to find the story over. In what life could he have Harry Hart _and_ Mark Darcy? It was like getting Mr. Darcy and James Bond.

            Seven months had passed since Violet was born, his one year anniversary with Mark and Harry was even closer, and Eggsy was in absolute bliss.

            When they got home, Eggsy and Harry set the bags onto the counter. “Mark,” Eggsy called. He started to unload their groceries.

            “Welcome back,” Mark said as he entered the kitchen, holding Violet. Blond ringlets framed her pudgy face. She had Mark’s and Harry’s eyes, deep honey orbs that already had her daddies wrapped around her small finger.

            Eggsy walked over to them and greeted Violet first, kissing her chubby cheek. “How’s my princess?”

            Violet giggled. “’Gg.”

            “She’s been asking for you since you left,” Mark stated and transferred Violet into Eggsy’s awaiting arms. He leaned down and briefly kissed Eggsy. “Welcome home—did you get everything?”

            “Almost,” Eggsy said, hiding his smile into Violet.

            Mark raised an eyebrow and walked over to help Harry. Harry met Mark for a kiss of his own. To the outside world Eggsy knew it would be strange to see Mark and Harry kiss—not only brothers, but identical twins. It was like watching reflections in mirrors touch. They even sported similar suits, dark cuts that accentuated their narrow waists and long legs.

            Mark dug into one of the bags and put away the vegetables.

            “What time is Jack and Bridget coming over?” Harry asked, setting the chicken in the sink to be prepared later.

            “She said around seven,” Mark said. He pulled out the jam and studied the brand. Eggsy and Harry watched him for a heartbeat, and then Mark stated, “This isn’t the right brand.”

            “Ha!” Eggsy shouted, making Violet jump. He bounced her immediately in his arms, shushing gently. “What I say? I said it was wrong.” Eggsy looked at Violet, who watched him. “I did princess, but no. Your uncle is just too stubborn for his own good.”

            “Don’t be petulant Eggsy,” Harry grumbled sardonically and snatched the jam from Mark. “What does it matter? It’s jam.”

            “I’d like you to live to a ripe old age, so excuse me if I want to be careful with what we put in our bodies,” Mark said. “Set it aside and I’ll exchange it tomorrow. There should be enough left in our current jar for toast tomorrow.”

            “Fine,” Harry huffed and put the jam off to the side of the counter.

            Eggsy shared a private smirk with Mark—Harry would be pouting for half the night now. Mark soothed some of Harry’s mulling by stroking the back of his neck. “Thank you, though.”

            Harry’s ruffled feathers settled and he dipped down for another fleeting kiss. “Shall we start dinner?” He asked when they parted.

            Eggsy’s stomach rumbled and he piped in, “Yes.”

            Mark chuckled. “Okay, I’ll get started.”

            Eggsy cradled Violet in his arms as he watched Mark move over to the fridge to collect the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Mark seemed so much happier than when Eggsy first met him, when a lingering sadness and doubt plagued his eyes. For the longest time Mark seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if Eggsy would up and abandon him like so many others had.

            But now Mark understood that neither Eggsy, nor Harry, were going anywhere.

            It didn’t matter what the world thought of them or that people didn’t understand. This worked for them and they were happy, a luxury that none of them had ever been able to have. Sure, there were still some issues—balancing their work schedules, the fact that Mark _still_ didn’t know his and Harry’s true identity, or Mark’s and Harry’s meddling parents who occasionally liked to crop up and remind Mark about how unfitting Eggsy was for him, but it all faded into the hush when Mark smiled.

            Violet squirmed in Eggsy’s arms, whining restlessly. Eggsy bounced her in his arms and said, “Hey now, what’s the matter baby girl?”

            “She may be hungry,” Mark called over his shoulder.

            “I’ll get the food,” Harry offered.

            Eggsy placed her in her high chair and Harry tried to feed her, but she turned away with her pug nose turned up and another defiant whine.

            “Don’t think that’s it babe,” Eggsy announced after Violet smacked the spoon from Harry’s hand.

            “Is her diaper dirty?” Harry asked, craning down to clean up the mess with a napkin.

            Eggsy hoisted her up above his head and sniffed her cushy bottom. “Nope.”

            Tears gathered in the corner of Violet’s eyes. Eggsy walked over to the radio they kept on one of the shelves above the counter and flipped it on. Elton John’s _I’m Still Standing_ came on.

            Eggsy beamed down at Violet and spun her in a circle, making sure to brace her head with his hand and her bottom with his arm. “Come on now princess, no tears,” Eggsy said and started to sway.

            Violet’s whining stopped, but she sniffled. Eggsy continued to glide across the dance floor, dipping Violet, then bringing her back up into a spin, all the while [singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYCOA2jQ-XA).

            “Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I’m still standing after all this time. Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.” Eggsy pivoted around Mark, who watched with a broad grin. Harry caught Eggsy around the waist and drew him close, his chest to Eggsy’s back, and helped cup Violet.

            Violet squealed, her teary face erupting into a toothless smile. She garbled along, not able to make out any words other than ‘yeah yeah yeah’ when Eggsy sang it.

            When the song finished, and the DJ came on, Violet clapped her hands together, giggling infectiously.

            “There we go,” Eggsy said and kissed the top of her head. “All better.”

            “I never get tired of hearing you see, darling,” Harry said, nuzzling Eggsy’s temple.

            “Perhaps you missed your calling,” Mark said, having stopped in cutting the vegetables to watch the show. “You should have become a singer and not a tailor.”

            Eggsy forced a laugh and adjusted his grip on Violet. “No bruv, I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

* * * *

            After dinner, Violet got a bath. By the time they were done, Bridget and Jack arrived to pick her up. Eggsy liked Jack and he was truly pleased that Bridget found someone, but he would never understand why Americans felt the need to hug so much. He almost expected Mark to die of an aneurism the first time Jack dragged him into a bear hug.

            Eggsy waved goodbye to Bridget and Jack and shut the door behind them. He returned to the living room, where Mark and Harry had already poured drinks and lounged on the chair, Mark enfolded into Harry’s arms.

            “So, when do you think Jack is going to finally pop the question?” Eggsy asked, flopping down on the couch. He picked up the scotch that had been fixed for him and took a long sip.

            Mark choked on his own drink. “Marriage? Do you think it’s come to that?”

            Eggsy chuckled, throwing one arm over the back of the couch. “Bruv, they live together.”

            “They do?” Mark blinked.

            “Yes? How did you not know this?” For as brilliant as Mark was, sometimes he was the most unobservant git. The only person maybe worse than him was Harry.

            “Well, I just thought they were staying at each other’s flats.”

            “No, just hers.”

            “And how do you know all this?” Mark asked, incredulous.

            “They talk on the phone,” Harry supplied.

            “You do?”

            “Well, yeah? Sometimes she needs an ear to talk to, and her other friends are kind of self-centered twats.”

            “Yes, that they are,” Mark agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching. He shook his head, laughter rolling over him in slow waves.

            Eggsy glanced at Harry, concerned. “I think we broke him.”

            “I think you’re right,” Harry said, tipping his head to look at Mark.

            “I’m fine,” Mark assured between peals of laughter. “It’s just, my partner is friends with my ex-wife. I just—I never thought this would be my life.”

            “Well, if it makes you feel better, I do believe she still hates me,” Harry said.

            “Yes, but that’s because she thinks you’re going to kill her,” Eggsy said.

            “She does?” Harry raised his eyebrows, though he didn’t look all that surprised.

            “She told me.”

            “Oh dear lord,” Mark said and took a long drink of his scotch.

* * * *

            After their drinks, they watched one of Harry’s pre-recorded episodes of _The Great British Bake Off_. Eggsy wouldn’t admit it, but he did enjoy the show—maybe not as much as Harry, but it was still something interesting to watch. He mostly enjoyed being able to lounge on the couch with both Mark and Harry, cuddled up close while Harry grumbled under his breath about how the contestants were doing it wrong.

            When the episode ended, Eggsy turned off the tube and said, “That’s enough of that.”

            JB rose from his doggy bed in the corner of the room, his name tag jingling against his collar. Eggsy patted his leg and said, “I’m going to take JB out one last time.”

            “Okay love,” Mark said. He stood and stretched his arms over his head. Eggsy poked him in his rib, forcing him to drop his arms abruptly.

            “Do you want to come?” Eggsy asked.

            “You two go, I’ll turn down the bed and go ahead and take my shower,” Harry said.

            Eggsy fetched JB’s leash and harness and wrangled him into the neon colored vest. Mark took Eggsy’s hand as they stepped out into the night, the air cool and saturated with the promise of rain.

            “I’ve been thinking about what we should do for our anniversary,” Mark said. They strolled down the sidewalk, JB occasionally stopping to sniff a tree.

            “Hmm?”

            “I was thinking we should take a holiday—go somewhere tropical, maybe?”

            Eggsy stopped to let JB do his business. “That would be nice. Of course, we’ll have to figure out a way for me and Harry to get the time off without it looking odd, yeah?”

            The biggest downfall to their relationship was that no one knew about Harry. Everyone just assumed Harry had stepped aside for his brother and that he and Eggsy were simply close friends. Bridget used to comment about how often Harry was over at Mark’s place, but eventually she stopped mentioning Harry’s constant presence.

            Technically Harry still had his own flat at Stanhope Mews. They seldom went there anymore. It had become a place for Harry and Eggsy to rest after missions, that way they didn’t alarm Mark, but otherwise the home remained empty. It existed now for posterity reason and nothing else.

            “That is a bit of a conundrum. Do you think it’ll be an issue?” Mark asked.

            Eggsy pulled out a little waste baggy and picked up JB’s mess. “Well, we could lie I suppose. Say there’s a family get together or some sort? Then it won’t seem odd.”

            Eggsy suspected Merlin knew the truth of their relationship. Merlin _was_ all-knowing. Nothing could get past him. He probably pieced together the outcome of their relationship before even they had worked it out. Maybe he could talk to him and see if he could pull some strings.

            They returned home. Eggsy put JB to bed and went upstairs. Harry had already finished his shower and laid in bed reading. They’d swapped out Mark’s old bed for a larger one that could accommodate all three of them. Eggsy liked to sleep in the middle, snug between his two Harts.

            Mark took his shower next. Eggsy busied himself with selecting his outfit for the next day. When Mark finished in the bathroom, Eggsy slipped in and took a quick and thorough shower, using it as an opportunity for a bit of pre-prepping. He was diligent with his fingers, not lingering long to play with himself. But he wanted to speed up the process for when they got to bed. As much as he loved Mark or Harry working him open, he had better ideas tonight.

            Eggsy shut off the water and hastily toweled dry. Mark and Harry were both waiting for him, a bottle of lubricant set on the nightstand. Eggsy leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, a towel secured low along his waist.

            Without a word Eggsy reached down and removed the towel, letting it drop into a crumpled pile on the floor. Mark’s and Harry’s chest hitched as they drew in a breath. Their hungry gazes sent a rush of heat through Eggsy. He pushed off the frame and walked over to the bed, mindful of the sway of his hips.

            He barely got a knee onto the edge of the bed before Harry pulled him down between them. “Come here, you naughty thing.”

            Eggsy laughed. “Is a gentleman always patient?”

            “But he also always goes for what he wants,” Harry said and leaned over Eggsy. He circled Eggsy’s wrists with his hands and drew them up over his head, pinning them to the pillow.

            Their mouths slotted together in a heady kiss that left Eggsy weak and pliant. He dropped his legs open, aching for hands to cover him. He didn’t have to wait long. Mark drew his thighs apart and tapped his side to signal for him to lift his knees. A slicked finger circled his already loose hole.

            “Someone came prepared,” Mark mused as he slid a finger inside Eggsy. “What were you doing in the shower?”

            Harry parted so Eggsy could answer, pressing a trail of kisses along the edge of his jaw. “Just want you in me faster,” Eggsy admitted with groan.

            Mark’s broad hand circled his cock and gave a few languid strokes. At the same time, he found Eggsy’s prostate and zeroed in on it like a heat missile. Eggsy let out a shuddering moan, not enough air filling his lungs.

            “Listen to him sing,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Do you like it when Mark plays with you, darling?”

            Eggsy nodded, unable to get his tongue to cooperate. Mark pressed down against his prostate with a slow circle of his finger. The movement was an atomic explosion inside Eggsy.

            “We can’t hear you,” Mark said.

            “Yes,” Eggsy whined, practically shouting it.

            “I think tonight he can take both of us, don’t you brother dearest?” Harry said.

            Eggsy swallowed thickly, his hunger pulsing beneath his skin. _Yes. God, yes._ He wanted them in him. He wanted to stretch around them, to feel them fucking into him and working him open at once, to have their cum dripping out of him. He wanted to be theirs.

            Mark stretched Eggsy a little more, making sure he was loose enough to accommodate two cocks, before he withdrew his fingers.

            “On your back,” Harry instructed Mark.

            When Mark was stretched out, Harry moved Eggsy into position, arranging him to how he wanted him. Eggsy leaned over Mark, their mouth’s nearly touching, and lowered himself onto his cock. Harry guided him the entire way, holding Mark’s cock and Eggsy’s hip.

            The thick crown of Mark’s cock breached his hole and Eggsy sunk down with a long, breathy moan. Mark groaned, his thigh muscles clenching against Eggsy’s calves.

            “There we go, nice and slow,” Harry murmured.

            Eggsy settled himself onto Mark. Mark gripped Eggsy’s thighs, squeezing encouragingly. Harry continued to hold onto Eggsy’s hips, setting the rhythm as Eggsy began to bounce, fucking himself onto Mark’s cock.

            “God, look at you two,” Harry said, his mouth brushing against Eggsy’s ear, his breath curling down his neck. “Like two Greek gods. I could watch you all night.”

            “Why watch,” Eggsy panted, scraping his nails down Mark’s chest. “When you can join?”

            “Excellent point, darling.” Harry chuckled.

            He pressed a hand between Eggsy’s shoulder blades and forced him to lean forward. Mark took a hold of Eggsy’s hips and drew his knees up, keeping them spread wide so Harry could slot himself between them. After a bit of maneuvering, Harry lined his cock to Eggsy’s stretched hole, just above Mark’s.

            He slid fingers in to pull Eggsy open more, earning a cry of delight from Eggsy, and guided his cock to Eggsy’s entrance. Eggsy dropped his head against Mark’s shoulder, his entire body buzzing as he was pushed to his limits and filled with a second cock.

            There wasn’t much he could do being pinned between the two of them. He was helpless to them, completely at their control, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

            Harry eased in, the burn of stretch warring with the ripples of pleasure radiating over Eggsy. Then he was settled, fully sheathed, and Eggsy was completed.

            Harry guided the pace, with Mark following behind, breathy moans escaping him. Harry curled a hand around Eggsy’s throat and drew him back as best he could. Mark craned up and sought out Eggsy’s nipple. He latched on, suckling at his tit with eager nips and strokes of his tongue.

            Eggsy cupped the back of his head, sobbing at the assault of sensations being rained down upon him.

            None of them spoke—he didn’t know if they could—they were simply reduced to gasps and cries, a chorus of moans scored with flesh hitting flesh and bed springs.

            Eggsy broke first, his cock pinned between his body and Mark’s, rubbed against his belly with each thrust. He came all over Mark with a loud, desperate cry that stuttered into a drawn-out whine. Harry and Mark fucked him through his climax, beyond the point of over sensitivity, until he was a twitching, garbling mess between them, pleading for mercy.

            Mark came second, clutching onto Eggsy like he was salvation, and shouting Harry’s name with abandon. Harry forced Mark to remain still as he continued to fuck into Eggsy’s dripping hole.

            When Harry came, it was in choppy thrusts and with a guttural, bestial groan that Eggsy felt deep in his gut.

            Harry slumped over Eggsy, panting into his shoulder. None of them moved for a long time, the sweat cooling on their perspiring skin. Finally, Harry drew out first, and Eggsy could already feel some of the cum leak from his hole. Then Mark slid out, Harry helping to lift Eggsy’s pliant body off him.

            Eggsy maneuvered onto the bed, flopping down face first with his legs spread wide open. The cum dripped from his hole in globs, a wet sensation rolling down his thighs and cheeks, over his bollocks.

            “That’s always a sight I love to see,” Harry said.

            Eggsy mumbled, sleepiness taking over. Mark clamored around Eggsy to join Harry, both taking one arse cheek and drawing it apart, so Eggsy’s abused hole was exposed.

            “It certainly is picture perfect,” Mark agreed.

            “Mark, Harry,” Eggsy finally whined.

            They let him go with a chuckle.

            “Okay darling, you rest. Mark and I will clean you up,” Harry promised.

            Eggsy huffed and nuzzled into his pillow. He was asleep before Harry even climbed off the bed, a dopy smile gracing his lips.


	2. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes good days can end badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-betaed.
> 
> A bit of a short chapter, but it felt like a good place to stop. Sorry for the delay!

Mornings in the Darcy-Hart-Unwin household were often a game of chance. It was a fifty-fifty shot that Mark would wake to the smell of burnt toast or a cold pot of tea in the morning. It wasn’t because any of them were bad cooks—quite the opposite, in fact—but simply because of Harry’s propensity to run behind schedule and Eggsy’s inability to function before the first cup of tea. So, unless Mark woke early enough, he was usually greeted with a kitchen that looked like a company of dwarves had raided it.

Mark took it upon himself to wake early that morning. It also meant he got to get in the shower before Eggsy and Harry, saving him the hot water. He had the kettle on and the eggs frying by the time Eggsy came downstairs. Harry would be another fifteen minutes, at minimum.

“Good morning darling,” Mark greeted, ladling eggs onto a plate with a rasher of bacon and two triangles of toast, sans the jam. Eggsy accepted the plate, offering a kiss to Mark’s cheek in gratitude.

“You’re up early,” Eggsy said and carried the plate into dining room.

“I wanted to get a few things together before work,” he said. It wasn’t completely a lie—he was merely omitting the fact that he didn’t want to clean up a disaster zone before all his appointments today.

“Mmmhmm, sure,” Eggsy said, fixing Mark with a knowing look. He dug into his eggs with gusto, scarfing down bites between sips of tea.

Mark finished his breakfast at a calmer pace, taking the time to savor each bite. He skipped the toast—he hated it dry, and buttery toast just got soggy. When they were finished, he collected the plates and fixed one for Harry. “Why don’t you take your shower and I’ll go wake Prince Charming?”

Eggsy fed JB, who pranced at his bowl impatiently, whining until the kibble pooled into the ceramic dish.

“Thanks for breakfast, luv,” Eggsy said and headed upstairs.

Mark finished tidying the kitchen, allowing Harry a few more moments of rest. When he heard the hiss of the shower, he dried his hands and headed to their bedroom. Harry had taken real estate in the center of the bed, sprawled out like a starfish with the sheets knotted around his waist. There was more definition to Harry’s stomach than Mark’s, a clear sign that he somehow found the time to go to the gym (and when that was, Mark hadn’t a clue, because Harry never went anywhere other than work).

He slipped onto the edge of the bed, mindful not to disturb Harry, and watched as his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. Like this, Harry was unguarded. He was always beautiful (though Mark wouldn’t tell him that, less he wanted to further stroke his ego), but now, with all the tension bleed from his face and the furrow that always pinched his brow smoothed away, Harry was positively ethereal.

Lambent sunlight streaming through the split in the curtains warmed the side of Harry’s face and caught the silver threads that frosted his temples. Mark slipped his fingers through the untamed curls that formed. He really wished Harry would stop insisting on smoothing out each ringlet. He looked wonderful with unkempt hair.

It was a habit Harry started in around six year, when he decided he was tired of people not being able to tell them apart. Mark had never told him, but the first time he had seen Harry with perfectly gelled hair, it had been soul-shattering. It was like looking into a broken mirror. He saw his face, but it wasn’t _his_. It was something twisted, something not _right_.

Mark had cried in the bathroom, shaken to his core at the sudden division that split them.

Mark traced his fingers along the soft line of Harry’s jaw, watching his eyelashes flutter as he slowly drew to wakefulness. He trailed his fingers along the curve of his neck, over the solid planes of his chest, and down to the lean line of his stomach. Where Mark was soft and slightly doughy around the waist, Harry was trimmed and hardened. Maybe tailoring was more laborious than Mark realized.

Just as Mark’s hand was about to slip under the tangled blankets, Harry’s hand shot out and caught him by the wrist.

“What are you doing?” Harry murmured gruffly.

Mark smiled and nosed his way along Harry’s jaw, peppering kisses along his face the closer he drew to his mouth. “Waking you up.”

Harry released Mark’s wrist and said, voice still rough with sleep, “Well, in the that case, do continue sweetheart.”

Mark coiled his hand around Harry’s thickening prick, encouraging it to full mast as he sought out Harry’s mouth. Harry was pliant under him, still drowsy and willing to let Mark direct the pace. Mark sighed happily into Harry’s mouth as he twisted his hand and rubbed his thumb along the ridge of Harry’s crown. He smoothed his thumb over the spongy head where precum pearled, and swiped it down his veiny shaft.

A want pulsed deep in Mark and his hole clenched at the idea of stuffing himself full of Harry. If they weren’t already running behind, Mark would have stripped out of his clothes and settled on top of Harry’s lap. Perhaps tonight he could have both Harry and Eggsy fuck him.

Harry curled a hand around the back of Mark’s neck to hold him in place. His fingers dug into his tendons, a commanding grip that sent a thrill through Mark’s stomach. The power shifted as Harry awakened, and he took from Mark with deep kisses that smeared spit along his lips.

A low groan escaped Harry from deep behind his sternum and Mark couldn’t help but hitch one leg over Harry’s, rocking his own hard cock against Harry’s hip.

Mark let go of Harry’s cock and reached low, his fingers sticky from precum, and found Harry’s heavy bollocks. He squeezed them firmly, savoring the moan that Harry let out.

“You know, brother dearest, a gentleman doesn’t tease his partner,” Harry said, his forehead pressed against Mark’s.

“A gentleman also doesn’t do what we did last night,” Mark responded with a chuckle. He released Harry’s balls and returned to stroking his cock, alternating between a firm and loose grip until Harry finally started to fuck into his hand.

Mark would need to change his pants if he kept humping into Harry’ side, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter.

Harry suddenly rolled over him, pinning Mark to the mattress, the sheets falling down his waist to pool at their feet. He bracketed Mark’s waist with both his knees and fucked himself against Mark’s cock with lush rolls of his hips.

The friction sent a spark of electricity through Mark, and his head fell back as he moaned. Harry leaned over him, capturing Mark in a messy kiss. He picked up his pace and rutted against Mark, their cocks fucking against one another.

Desperate pressure built in Mark, and before he knew it, he came in his pants with a cry. Harry followed, trembling above Mark, his cum staining the front of Mark’s trousers.

Harry panted in Mark’s ear, still hunched over Mark as he caught his breath.

“Well,” Harry said, swallowing thickly. “That’s certainly a way to wake up.”

“It is,” Mark agreed, a stupid grin on his face.

Harry chuckled and kissed Mark again, this time taking his time.

“You know you’re both going to be late again, right? And now so am I,” Eggsy announced from the bathroom doorway, though he didn’t sound too upset. “Harry is starting to rub off on you, Mark. Next thing you know, Rebecca will be calling me bitching that you missed an appointment. It’s bad enough I got Merlin breathing down my neck.”

“Sorry,” Mark said, but they all knew he wasn’t.

“No breakfast for you Harry,” Eggsy stated. “In the shower, we’re leaving in ten. You can primp in the taxi.”

“You know, he’s gotten rather bossy,” Harry whispered to Mark conspiratorially.

“I heard that,” Eggsy shouted as he left the room. “Ten minutes! Otherwise you’ll be the one on front desk duty today!”

Mark flopped back against the bed with a laugh. He didn’t move, even after Harry got off and vanished into the bathroom. He wanted to stay like this for a moment longer, basking in the post-coitus glow and the bliss that came from knowing he got to be with the two men he loved.

* * * *

At some point during the day it started to rain. It was the kind of rain that came softly but insistently, in small droplets that splattered on asphalt, and then in a quiet rush that drenched everything beneath it. Mark had caught a glimpse of it as he passed a window around lunch time, and when he left for the day, thoroughly exhausted, it was still pouring. He was almost tempted to go straight home and not make a stop at the shop to exchange the jam Harry had bought yesterday.

Rebecca shifted beside him, her umbrella up and shielding them both from the spray of water. “See you tomorrow?” She asked with a small quirk of her lips.

“Yeah,” Mark said and shook out his own black umbrella. They went in separate directions, into the cold and against the wind.

Mark considered hailing a cab, but the shop wasn’t too far from his office, so there was no point in getting one yet. Halfway to the store, he stepped in a puddle and splashed water up to his ankle.

“Oh bloody hell,” Mark complained and shook his leg, only getting it wetter. He hurried along, pushing against the wind that cut down the street.

He took shelter under the awning of the Marks and Spencer and collapsed his umbrella. A chill had settled over him. A nice hot shower was the first thing he was going to do when he got home. Eggsy and Harry should be home too, unless they had to stay late.

For tailors, their schedules were rather sporadic. Mark understood needing to be available for clients, but it seemed like most of their clientele had ridiculous demands. There’d been plenty of nights when both Harry and Eggsy worked late into the evening for someone.

Were suits really that important?

Mark huffed, knowing if he said the question out loud around Harry, he’d go on a tangent about how suits were the armor of a modern gentleman, whatever that meant. Mark preferred a comfortable sweater, personally.

Mark returned the jam without any problems, exchanging it for the brand he preferred. He knew Harry found it silly for him to be so picky, and really it wasn’t about the jam its self. The other brand was just as good. But now that Violet was in the picture and the three of them were together, Mark wanted to take every measure possible to ensure they would all be around for as long as possible.

Too many years had been wasted between him and Harry over their spats.

Besides, he knew Harry had a pension for sweets. Mark wasn’t stupid, he knew about Harry’s stash of Twinkies in his office. Mark had to counter balance the sugar somewhere.

He thanked the shop keep and headed back out. The rain hadn’t let up, and he remained under the awning, watching as London grew soggy.

His phone rang. He fished it out and answered after checking the ID.

“Hello Bridget,” Mark said and opened his umbrella. “Everything all right?”

“Why do you always ask that?” Bridget asked. “I don’t just call you because of a problem.”

“Your record would say otherwise,” Mark pointed out. He stepped out from under the awning, the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, while he held the umbrella and his bags in one hand, and raised the other to signal a cab.

“Very funny,” Bridget said. “You’re absolutely hilarious. I just thought you’d like to know that Violet took her first steps today.”

Mark paused, his heart in his throat. “She did?”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you. I’m e-mailing you the video now.”

A queer mixture of regret and joy warred in his stomach. Mark didn’t regret his life, he was happy where he was, but he did wish he could be there more for Violet. To see all the moments, not just brief snippets.

“Thank you,” Mark said, a bit breathless. A black cab pulled to the curb, but Mark barely registered it. “How did she do?”

“She pulled herself up and took four steps. Remember that Christmas party at mum’s where she served that new spiced rum eggnog recipe she found?”

Mark laughed, a giddy, infectious feeling warming through him. “How could I forget? You were smashed within the first hour. You got in a fight with your cousin Tina.”

Bridget sniffed. “Yes, well, she shouldn’t have said that. Anyways, Violet was a bit like that. It was like watching a little drunk.”

“I can’t wait to see,” Mark said. He opened the door to the cab. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone come around the front of the cab, and he thought it was the driver. The man had a cap pulled low, the bill shrouding his face in shadows. Mark turned, shifting his umbrella to his other hand. “I don’t need he—”

The words were cut off as a fist slammed into his temple. His head collided with something hard and metal and his vision swirled in a spotty black mix. The shock knocked a cry from him.

“Mark?” He heard Bridget call, her voice distant as his phone fell to the ground. Mark raised his arms, dropping his umbrella and bags, to shield himself. Something sharp stabbed into his neck from behind and he realized belatedly that there was another person there.

His body went heavy and he slumped towards the ground. The world turned dark, like someone had poured ink over his eyes. The last thing he saw before his vison went out was the jar of jam rolling down the pavement.

* * * *

“Mark?” Eggsy called when he got home. JB greeted him at the door with an excited bounce. Eggsy crouched down and scratched him behind the ear. When Mark didn’t respond, Eggsy turned to Harry and shrugged. “He must be working late.”

“I’ll start dinner. Why don’t you text him and see?” Harry said, putting his umbrella away and hanging his coat on the rack.

“Okay. I’m going to take JB for a walk,” Eggsy said. He put JB in his harness and clipped the leash to it. JB spun in circles, snapping at the leash. “Come on JB.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella,” Harry called, already in the kitchen.

Eggsy grabbed his umbrella on the way out. It was too damp and cold to go far, so he just took JB over to the grassy patch down the street. He fished his phone from his pocket and sent Mark a text, letting him know Harry was fixing supper and asking when he’d be home.

JB pissed on a tree and then immediately started to sniff around. Eggsy let him investigate for a little while, feeling guilty that he had to stay inside all day. Maybe he’d bring him to the office tomorrow, let him play with the other dogs at the kennel.

Eggsy’s phone started to ring, and he expected it to be Mark. Bridget’s name flashed on the screen, along with a picture of her and Violet.

“Hey Bridge,” Eggsy greeted when he answered. “I got your e-mail.”

“Eggsy something is wrong,” Bridget said, talking over Eggsy.

The panicked tremor in her voice made Eggsy stand in alert. He pulled tight on JB’s leash to keep him from wandering.

“What’s wrong? Is it Violet?”

“No, Violet is fine. It’s Mark.”

“What do you mean Mark?” Eggsy asked. He tugged on JB’s leash and started for the flat. “What’s going on? Tell me everything.”

“I-I was on the phone with him, and the suddenly it cut out. I heard this horrible sound and Mark cried out, and then nothing. I think he may have been hurt.” She paused. Eggsy threw open the door, dropping his umbrella on the floor, still open. “It could be nothing. Maybe he just fell and broke his phone—but when I called back, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Don’t worry Bridget, I’ll find out what’s going on,” Eggsy said. “I got to go. Give Violet my love.”

He hung up before she could respond. He was mindful enough to remove JB’s harness and leash, before he rushed into the kitchen. Bridget was probably right, it was most likely nothing. Mark had his fair share of accidents, so maybe he just tripped on a slippery patch of asphalt.

“Bridget just called,” Eggsy said as he entered the kitchen.

“And what did the she-devil want?”

“Harry,” Eggsy warned. “She said she was talking to Mark and the phone cut out. Before it did, she heard him make a distressed sound and something crash.”

Harry paused, the knife he was holding in mid-slice. “Did she call him back?”

“Straight to voicemail.”

“Mark could have tripped and smashed his phone,” Harry said, doubt seeping out of every word. He set the knife down and wiped his hands on the towel folded over his shoulder. “I’ll have Merlin track him and see where he’s at.”

“Track him?” It took Eggsy a heartbeat to realize what Harry said. “God damnit Harry, you don’t put trackers in your brother.”

“I did it a long time ago, just in the off chance someone mistook him as me, or decided to use him against me,” Harry said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “This way I can guarantee his safety.”

Eggsy should scold him — how did Harry even get a tracker in Mark? — but now, he was gratefully Harry had.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Eggsy said, pointing at Harry. “Call Merlin.”

Harry tapped the side of his glasses, which he still wore. Eggsy busied himself with feeding JB. JB rushed over to his bowl and started to wolf down his kibble.

“Merlin,” Harry said. “Yes, I know it’s off hours. Yes, I know I’m not supposed to bother you at home—well, why didn’t you turn off the link?” He paused. “Oh do be quiet, you fuss pot. I need a favor. Can you pull up Mark’s tracker and locate it? We seem to be in a bit of a spot.” Another pause. Eggsy leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, yes, I know I owe you. Please just look.”

Panic slowly curled at the base of Eggsy’s spine. He kept telling himself everything was fine, that Mark merely had an accident, but a small inkling feeling in his gut told him otherwise. It was the same horrid sensation he’d gotten when Harry had jetted off to Kentucky. It was like someone had torn a small hole inside him, the tiniest of rips, and even though it was small, it acted as a vacuum and grew and grew, sucking in everything until Eggsy was hollowed.

Eggsy glanced at the stove clock. The digital letters blurred as his vision glazed over.

“I see,” Harry said, and while the infliction in his voice hadn’t changed, there was the minutest shift in his posture that sent Eggsy’s red flags up. Eggsy pushed off the counter, his hands curled into fists at his side. “Thank you, Merlin, we’ll meet you at the office.”

Harry hit the side of his glasses to end the call and looked to Eggsy.

“Mark’s been taken.”


End file.
